He Won't Go
by solice-in-silence
Summary: My first ever attempt at fanfic...a look at f/Hawke and Ander's during Act 3 based on Adele's amazing song He Won't Go, lyrics featured and of course, property of hers.


_Some say I'll be better without you,_

_But they don't know you like I do,_

_Or at least the sides I thought I knew,_

_I can't bear this time,_

_It drags on as I lose my mind,_

_Reminded by things I find,_

_Like notes and clothes you've left behind,_

_Wake me up, wake me up when all is done,_

_I won't rise until this battle's won,_

_My dignity's become undone,_

"I cannot rest easy and hold my tongue".

She sighed, quickening her pace a little - not to avoid the conversation, which she always knew would come up eventually. If it was not Fenris it would be Varric, and even if they both held their tongues, Isabel and Aveline would feel the need to chip in with their own opinions. Only Merrill watched without judgment, and Hawke felt that was as much because of her own questionable actions as anything – but to pull away from the others, glancing over her shoulder as she did so. The dwarf, lifting his head curiously to meet her gaze with a half smile, walked with Anders, a little way behind, his own short legs (he might not like them referred to, but they were a fact none the less that slowed his pace) and the mage's exhaustion making them easy partners as they clambered down the slope of the Wounded Coast.

"Speak then. But I warn you, you cannot say anything I do not already know" she told the elf at her side, dropping her voice even though they were out of ear shot now.

"You deserve better". Well, that as an argument startled her – she had been expecting the usual lecture on the dangers of mages, on apostates, on abominations – had he started on any of those factors he would have riled her, because she shared the link to the fade, she was another who spent her life avoiding the Templars and the grip of the Circle, she had the same risk of becoming an abomination – but Fenris' actual comment surprised her enough to stay her tongue and she blinked at him.

"He is selfish. He will never put you first Hawke. For the mage, it will always be his cause first. He will never lose this need for vengeance, he sees injustice in everything done to him and is blind to any argument that suggests otherwise, and that anger will drive him. You must know this". She had no answer. Because she could see the truth in his words. Anders hated the Circle for what it did to him, because it had never been his choice, for denying him freedom. Even Hawke, who had spent her whole life avoiding the Chantry's reach, could see that some mages felt safest there, that for some it was the best place, that offered them the help to control their powers – there was a need for reform, and she would rather die than be shut within the walls of the Circle herself, but she could see the good in some of what they did. Anders could not. She was not so blind as he, she could see it was his own anger, the injustice done to him, which drove him – not the injustice in general.

But she loathed the suggestion still that the fight mattered more than her.

"We're all driven by something. You have as much anger as he does" she pointed out, side stepping the issue.

"Hawke. You must see. He's a dangerous man. He cannot be trusted. An abomination with less control every day…I cannot understand it" Fenris told her, his voice irritated.

"No. You can't".

How could anyone expect to understand? Nobody saw what she saw. Fenris saw him only in battle, only when Hawke requested the elf's help and he, for whatever reason, swallowed his prejudice against her, against him, against their people and their cause, and fought by their side. Varric and the others, they saw him occasionally in the Hanged Man, although the visits became more infrequent, they saw the forced smile, the strain in his eyes as he drank the shake in his fingers and the set of his shoulders, tension in every line. They remembered how he had been a few years ago, when he had still been quick to laugh. The light had been there in his eyes as well, a smile on his face as he regaled them stories every bit as unbelievable as Varric's, and the fight hadn't consumed him – it had been a passion, not an obsession.

But nobody saw what she saw, and she turned to look over her shoulder again. Nobody saw the tenderness he was capable of, nobody saw the other side. Sometimes she could have sworn he was at least four people – including Justice of course. The Warden who would stop at nothing in pursuit of mage freedom, the young man with the roguish grin they so rarely saw, and the ridiculous, surreal sense of humor, with enough stories to occupy them for a year – and then there was someone else, with fear in their eyes, a tremor in his voice, who looked at her as though she was Andraste herself, who stroked his fingers across her face and whispered poetry in the night…

Justice might rear his head more often, but she knew the other sides were in there. And while they were still there, she would not leave his side.

"You work with me till your debt is repaid. You travel with me, you travel with him. And you accept us" she told the elf, her gaze challenging, and a pang of shame in her heart as for the first time; she held the obligation Fenris felt to her against him. Hawke had never felt the need to talk of it before, she'd assured him even that she did not think of it like that, but he still felt she had saved him and granted him freedom, and he would offer that to her until he felt he had repaid her. And she saw the surprise in his eyes, and hurt, and annoyance, but she met those green eyes till he nodded, even as her heart twisted with revulsion in her chest.

_So petrified, I'm so scared to step into this ride,_

_What if I lose my heart and fail, declined,_

_I won't forgive me if I give up trying,_

_I heard his voice today,_

_I didn't know a single word he said,_

_Not one resemblance to the man I met,_

_Just a vacant broken boy instead,_

By the fire, she waited.

The flames had long since burnt down, leaving just glowing coals in the hearth. The embers offered gentle warmth, and cast a little light, over the young figure, who was curled up in an armchair, in a room that was otherwise dark. No candles flickered, and the heavy curtains were drawn to hide the silver of the moon. The house was silent now, and she sat there waiting, her chin resting on her drawn up knees, her expression impossible to make out in the gloom.

It felt like forever before she finally heard a sound, weary footsteps dragging up the stairs from the cellars, the slightly shuffling gait of the exhausted, and Hawke unfolded herself, her limbs feeling heavy from inactivity, and rubbed her eyes rapidly. As the footsteps moved toward the stairs that lead to the second level, she made a quick gesture toward the fireplace, having within seconds a friendly little blaze there, flames dancing and casting flickering light across the room, as she rose to her feet and moved to open the bedroom door.

He pushed himself too far. It was a thought that crossed her mind often, and gazing at him now, anyone could have seen it. Holding the door open, she leaned against the wood, bright blue eyes taking in the fatigue written all over his face. All the time she'd known Anders, his appearance had always suggested he had concerns that mattered more than his own well being, but now he looked haggard. The purple shadows beneath his eyes resembled bruises, his chin darkened by stubble, lines were being to appear, on his forehead and by his eyes, wrinkles appearing more from anguish and anxiety then age – and he'd lost weight, she was sure of it.

Normally, despite the strain wearing him down, he'd offer her a smile – not the weak, forced smile of someone trying to reassure another, but a bright reminder of the man she knew he was, underneath his passion to the cause, involuntarily crossing his face as he found her waiting for him.

Tonight there was no smile. As he lifted his gaze, it was filled with misery, and she lifted both arms and curled them round his neck. One hand cupped the back of his neck, the other smoothed across his hair, but she made no attempt to speak. It was a moment before he reacted, then his arms moved and wrapped themselves around her waist, clinging to her as a drowning man might clutch at a rope, one hand moving rapidly over her back as his buried his face against her hair.

For a moment they stood there in silence, and she could feel him shaking. Pulling away gently, she drew him into the room, closing the door behind them – in the four walls of her room, there was no Champion, no apostates, no Grey Wardens, no Templars. Within these four walls, they could comfort each other for the burdens that weighed them down, without the fear of losing face – or rather, Hawke could comfort Anders, as the case seemed to be these days.

By the fire he slumped into the chair she'd vacated, throwing himself down into the cushions, and raising one hand to shield his gaze. Hawke crouched at his feet, twisting her fingers into his other hand, and waited.

"The mage underground…they will not have my help anymore" he told her, and the heartbreak in his voice broke her more than the words.

"What happened?" she questioned softly. Another silence followed, before he dropped the hand that hid his expression and answered her.

"We were helping another mage escape…through the tunnels, beneath the Gallows. There…were Templars…" Already his voice was cracking with torment, and she could offer nothing but to tighten her grasp on his hand.

"I lost control". The words were nothing but a whisper, almost lost in the crackle of the fire, and she could hear the pain in every one. Hawke needed no more explanation then that, she knew what happened when Anders lost control, when his emotions and his anger took over – she had witnessed it, and seen the devastating consequences. She could well imagine why they might not wish to keep him with them. The help of an apostate Grey Warden was a thing to be proud of, something to value, the skill it inferred would fill any with confidence as they crept through the tunnels to flee Kirkwall – but an abomination? A mage possessed by a spirit, who could not always hold onto his humanity? No, they would not want him.

She rose from the ground, perching on the arm of the chair as she slid one arm along his shoulders, the other taking hold of the hand that hid his face and removing it, dropping it to his lap, and her fingers cupped his chin and tilted his face up, forcing him to meet her gaze.

"Will they tell the Templars?" she questioned. It wasn't that Hawke didn't pity him, she knew how hard this must be for him, she remembered how long he'd suffered after almost hurting Ella, and she knew the shame he must be feeling. But it was up to her to think of practicalities, because Anders could not, and if those that had once been their allies were putting the Templars on their trail, they would not have long to move.

"No" he whispered, and the tears that glistened in his eyes began to fall as she pulled him close, his arms wrapping around her waist and twisting into the fabric of her robe as she stroked his hair, murmuring words that meant nothing, the noise of the low croon designed to comfort him more than the content as she waited for him to calm himself, as she waited for exhaustion to take him so she could move him to the bed and let him lose himself in sleep.

And then tomorrow?

Who knew?

_Will he? Will he still remember me?_

_Will he still love me even when he's free?_

_Or will he go back to the place_

_Where he would chose the poison over me?_

"There is one more thing I need for you, my love. And I can't tell you why. I must get inside the Chantry, without being seen".

A frown stole across her face. At first, when he had suggested there was a way he could be free of Justice, a ritual that would separate the two, she had jumped at the chance. She had seen it was a good thing, a sign he was seeing sense…and she had gone, completely willingly, at his side to find the ingredients he said he needed. But the Chantry?

"There is no potion is there. This is no Tevinter recipe…" she said, wary.

"No. I cannot be separated from Justice. But I needed your help. I need your help. Will you talk to the Grand Cleric for me? Distract her for long enough for me to do what must be done".

"Tell me your plan".

"You would not thank me if I told you. If you support freedom for mages, help me. That's all I can say".

For the first time in a long time with him, she hesitated, and she saw the hurt in his eyes at her pause. It was not the cause that she denied, but him. He had gotten her assistance this far in his plan with lies, and did not even seem to feel sorry for it, and he continued to demand her help, without explanation. Her blood ran cold, she felt disconnected from her own body as she stared at him, all time slowed to his moment as she desperately sought an answer in his face, eyes darting across his features.

"I promise you, whatever happens, it's on my head. It will not come back to you" he murmured, as though such words could reassure her, as though she cared for her reputation, or worried for her own safety over his.

"Anders…" she whispered, physically sick as she stepped closer, lifting one hand to catch his own.

"I will not tell you more. But don't abandon me, not now my love" he pleaded. "I cannot do this without you".

How could she say no?

_I won't go._

_I can't do it on my own._

_If this ain't love then what is?_

_I'm willing to take the risk._

"I love you". The fervor in his words was clear, a different kind of desperation to that she'd heard lately, one which reminded her of the early days of their relationships when – like now – he'd caught her face in his hands and kissed her as though he would never let go, as though he wouldn't let her breathe, their hands fumbling blindly as they fell over furniture and pressed each other against walls. But today he broke their embrace briefly, still cradling her cheeks, his gaze locked on hers.

"You've stood by me, when I gave you every reason to turn away" he whispered, twisting his fingers into her hair, backing her toward the bed till she caught her knees and fell down on the covers, and he tumbled on top of her, the weight of him as familiar as the angle she tipped her head to when they kissed and the smell of him, the taste of him.

"Just remember, whatever happens, I wanted you to know that".

"Anders…" she began, but while he had halted the kissed to speak, he wouldn't grant her the same courtsey, capturing her lips with his as his hands moved to her waist. His knees straddled the bed each side of her as he caught her by the hips and moved her up the bed, and she dropped her grip on him to help, creasing the covers as she wiggled backwards and he crawled up with her, never pulling his mouth from hers, kissing her till she struggled for breath and when he pulled away, she couldn't speak, her breathing desperate and shallow as he whispered again.

"You are the most important thing in my life".

His hands began to undo her belt, fingers creeping underneath to caress her bare skin, laying the short robe open and she fumbled at the many belts and buckles of his own outfit, cursing in her mind as she did every time the amount of effort that went into his outfit, and the difficulty in getting down to skin.

"But some things matter more than my life". Part of her wanted him to stop, this conversation needed question, there was too much he wasn't saying, but with his tongue snaking past her own lips and his hands trying to cover as much of her skin as possible, thumbs running across her nipples so she gasped into his open mouth, and then running lower. How much practice exactly he'd had in the Tower he'd never say, but he'd been an expert even before Hawke, and now he knew her body so well he could have her moaning in seconds, he knew every curve and every ticklish spot, he knew where to stroke to make her hiss, where his kisses would leave her groaning, he knew how to make her lose control of her body, till she saw stars and blackness crowded her vision and her back arched off the bed and she could focus on nothing but his hands and the sparks that flew from them. And she couldn't focus on what he said, her fingers eagerly moving to his chest and the light covering of hair there as she finally got inside his coat, even as he spoke again, barely more then a whisper that was almost lost in her intake of breath as his hands moved lower.

"More important than either of us".

"No…you're wrong…" she gasped out, willing to argue. There was nothing she would not do for him, nothing she would not place him above, she knew that, but she couldn't begin to articulate this as his fingers slid between her legs and there were no words in the noise that escaped her, just a desperate mew as she arched herself into his hand.

"You are the one shining light in my life".

He did not speak after that, she would not let him, twisting her fingers into his hair in a way that threatened to tear the strands from his head if he broke away from the kiss, but the words that were spoken, and even those that were left unsaid, shook them both and as he entered her she tasted salt on her lips and didn't know whether it was the tears that ran down her own cheeks, or those falling from his face. They moved with desperation, she clung to him, wrapping her legs around him to pull him closer, every inch of her skin touching his, and it was still not enough to fill the gaping ache in her heart, even as they fell back against the covers, even as they gasped together, catching their breath from the climax. Even as she curled up against his chest afterwards, still holding onto him, one hand braceletting his upper arm in a way that threatened to leave bruises. Her grip only loosened as she began to drift off, and she was not sure whether the words that followed were whispered against her hair as he held her, or appeared in her dream.

"I told you I would break your heart. Just know that it breaks mine to do it. I'm sorry".

_He won't go,_

_He can't do it on his own,_

_If this ain't love, then what is?_

_He's willing to take the risk,_

_So I won't go,_

_He can't do it on his own,_

_If this ain't love, then what is?_

_I'm willing to take the risk._

The fire lit the evening sky as bright as day, her eyes swam with tears and she felt the heat on her face as she stared. She wasn't sure who had pulled her backwards, as Anders finished speaking and the rumble began beneath their feet, she had felt arms around her waist and been pulled away from the steps, but still the force had left her sprawling on the ground. The explosion had been so loud it felt as though the world must be ending, on the ground she had seen the building tumble, bricks and splinters of wood raining down on them, and it was a miracle none had hit her because as others shielded their face, she did nothing, but stare in shock.

She had been one of the first back to her feet though, but nobody spoke as they stared, shock mirrored on all their faces as the firelight danced in their eyes. Then the screams began, anguished yells without words, and she did not hear them. Voices began, angry voices, but she heard them as though under water, for the whispers that echoed in her own ears were louder than anything that happened now.

**'I must get inside the Chantry, without being seen'.**

Meredith was screaming at Orsino, she could tell by the skin pulled taut on the woman's face, she recognized the Knight Commander's anger, but it was the past that she heard.

**'You would not thank me if I told you'**

She had helped him in the Chantry, she had talked to Elthina, who meant well whatever you opinions, she had spoke of her cause in reasonable terms without knowing where he was or what he did.

**'If you support freedom for mages, help me.'**

She, who had always spoke on the behalf of reason and compromise, yet today he overruled her, overruled them all, as he spoke with authority she'd never heard before…and now this.

**'You are the most important thing in my life'.**

Tears tracked through the soot and grime on her face.

**'But some things matter more than my life'.**

She had helped.

And now it was her turn. Anders had proved Fenris' right, for he would not chose her and their life together over fighting back against his past.

**'I told you I would break your heart'.**

Would she stay? Or go?

Could she cope alone?

It was she who had argued love was more important, the most important thing, not the cause.

Could she take the risk?

_My first fanfic attempt, and any feedback would be greatly appreciated. Characters are Bioware's, Lyrics are Adele's. _


End file.
